


Wicked Game

by Magical_Devil_Alex



Series: Of Heroes and Villains AU [4]
Category: Markiplier Egos, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Bim cameo cause I can, Brainwashing, DON'T BE FOOLED, Death, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Kiss, First Meetings, IT'S REALLY DARK OK, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mark is a good friend, Mind Control, Of Heroes and Villains AU, Panic Attacks, Protective Mark, bring your popcorn kids, eddy gets drunk af, especially since it's technically rape?, he's a real lightweight, holy shit this is long, nope - Freeform, slight self harm, will i emply it?, will i write smut?, yeppppp, you bet your ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-28 05:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13897548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magical_Devil_Alex/pseuds/Magical_Devil_Alex
Summary: Dr. Edward Iplier had never been much for love.That is, until he met Isaac Grant.





	Wicked Game

**Author's Note:**

> Please, PLEASE read the tags and warnings. This is pretty dark. Let me know if I need to add any more tags.

Of heroes and villains, Edward Iplier liked to consider himself a hero. 

At least, he hoped that constantly healing all the 'known' heroes asses whenever they were about to bleed out, nearly having a heart attack every other week due to some stupid villain, and staying up till 3 a.m worried sick over one of the heroes counted as being one himself. He could never work in the crossfire like they do, sure, but without him most of the heroes in Iplieropolis would have died 10 times over. It was a life of constant stress and pulling out hair, trying to keep his life together while dealing with insane people like Mark Fischbach and Wilford Warfstache every single day (he usually didn't help villains but Wilford's gun always changed his mind).

That's why days like this had to be cherished.

It was beautifully sunny, not a cloud in the sky and birds chirping over the sounds of the deafening traffic that the city bore. There was a nice breeze as well, making sure it wasn't to hot in the bright sun. Edward was in his clinic, windows open and mind relaxed. The doctor was working on a bunch of paperwork stacked high on his desk, and while one might think that this was stressful, for Edward it was absolute peace. None of the heroes had needed any assistance, the only crime around at the moment being things like robberies and break ins. No Darkiplier to deal with, no crazy Wilford Warfstache on the loose, no creepy world domination robots popping out of nowhere, and more noticeably, no random mutilated bodies appearing around the city with novels attached to them.

A gentle breeze caressed Edward's face and dark hair, making him sigh in happiness. It was so nice when he wasn't running around like a mad man trying to save everyone, when for once he was just a normal, everyday doctor. 

He guessed having a literal healing touch kind of threw that out the window, but hey, you take the little things. 

At that moment, the small bell that hangs over the door to his clinic chimed, signalling that someone had entered. Edward looked up with a smile on his face, ready to greet that person that walked in. The first impression of man that walked in was that he was extremely tall, even sitting down the doctor could see how he towered over everything. He was wearing a red flannel shirt and jeans, perfectly normal for the type of weather they were having right now, hair dark and cropped short. However, the only thing that really stood out to Edward was his eyes. The were the brightest blue he's ever seen, like the entire sky managed to fit into a few centimeters of space. They were beautiful, the doctor couldn't help but think. You would have to be blind not to think so. 

He also happened to be sporting an extremely bloody hand.

Edward snapped out of his thoughts, jumping up from his chair. "Good god!" blurted from his mouth without his permission as he raced over to the man. The man gave a sheepish smile at the reaction, his entire face lighting up when he did so. Edward could feel his heart give an unwanted roll, and in his mind he slapped himself. This was a bleeding man that he  _just_ met! He didn't have time for love anyway, working with heroes and whatnot.

"Yeah, that's what I said," the man joked as the doctor took his hand. Edward examined the problem, noticing how there were two deep cuts on either side of the man's palm, instantly knowing that he would need stitches. Edward would have glad to use his powers and heal this up right away (he's healed much worse, after all) but the last thing he needed was an entourage of people flooding to his clinic thinking he had the power of God or something.

"Give me the bad news, doc," the man said, tone still light even though he must have been in pain.

Edward finished his examination, mumbling to himself as he looked the man in the eyes again. All train of thought stopped at the intensity of those eyes, they must have been fused with lightning or something, there was no way that was natural.

The man raised an eyebrow at him, and the doctor realized he was staring. Edward flushed, wringing his hands together. "W-well," he started, clearing his throat. "You're not dying, that's the good news. The bad news is that you need stitches"

The man sighed. "Welp. I guess I shouldn't been so surprised."

Edward shook his head as he lead the man to his 'station' (as Mark liked to call it) to start stitching him up. He asked the man to sit on the table, and he did, so tall that he didn't even need to go on his toes to get himself up. A weird tingle of jealousy appeared in Edward's mind, but he quickly brushed it off, gathering the things necessary for the procedure. Yes, Edward had always been one of the smallest men in his life (even compared to Mark, the bastard) but he tried to never let it define him. You could lift 500 pounds? You made it onto the basketball team? Well guess what, he started his own clinic. He helps heroes on a daily basis. He didn't need the height to get there.

And yet, looking at this man, Edward couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be that tall. To effortlessly reach things without a stool, to be taken more seriously. It could be nice.

The doctor snapped himself out of his thoughts, placing everything he would need on the table. First he grabbed the antiseptic, dotting some on a cotton ball. He asked the man to give him his hand again, and that it might sting. The man gave an easy shrug, saying he's probably felt worse and giving up his hand again. When the doctor put the cotton ball on his cuts, he only flinched a little, surprising Edward. Even Mark, with his stupidly stupid impenetrable skin still felt pain whenever he had to heal him up. 

Edward continued, sterilizing a needle and threading some tread through it. It was such a simple routine that he had gotten used to, something that let his mind easily wander. When it did, he noticed the man staring at him, whether on purpose or not didn't matter, 'cause Edward still flushed like a schoolgirl. He averted his gaze, still feeling the man's eyes on him. 

He grabbed the man's hand again once, bringing the needle with him. He began the slow process of closing up the cut, threading the needle over and over again. Much like with the antiseptic, the man didn't even shift in discomfort. He only watched the doctor with a small smirk on his lips. Edward tried to not to let this fact affect his work, doing his best to keep a steady hand.

As he finished up both cuts, the doctor grabbed a roll of gauze and wrapped it firmly around the man's hand, taping them once he felt satisfied. "Well there you go," Edward stated, stepping back to let the man get off the table. The man slid off fluidly, like a fish dancing in the water. Edward stood mesmerized at him, mouth slightly agape. 

The man took a step closer, taking one of Edward's hands with his unhurt hand, placing a chaste kiss on the doctors knuckles. The doctor was sure he had a stunned expression on his face, mouth open. He tried not to focus on the warmth that came from the hand, tried not to notice the rough calluses on the pads of his fingers, so unlike Edward's smooth ones. He tried not to stare at the way his hand almost completely covered the doctors, or at the man's lips when he pulled back. There was no question in his mind that he was bright red, all the way to the tips of his ears down his chest and further. It didn't help that he hadn't let go yet. 

The man had a full on cocky smirk at this point, showing off his pristine white teeth. "It's been lovely meeting you dear doctor. I hope to see each other again sometime," he said smoothly, eyes bright with sapphires. With that, he let go of the doctors hand, walking around him a towards the door. 

Edward stayed staring at the wall for a few heartbeats before he realized something.

"Wait!"

The man stopped and looked back, raising an eyebrow, seeing that the doctor had turned around.

"I- uh- shit- I mean," the doctor sighed, slightly hiding his face in embarrassment. "What's your name?" he asked hesitantly.

The man looked a bit surprised at the question, like it never crossed his mind before now. After a moment of hesitation, he said it.

"Call me Isaac. Isaac Grant."

 

 

It was far from the last time Edward saw the man, Isaac. 

The man came every other day, whether it was another injury (he seemed to have a lot of those, particularly with his hands) or to just talk. The doctor found he really enjoyed his company, a nice contrast between the silence that usually filled the clinic. He found out that he was a published author, and specialized in horror. Isaac claimed be went under a pen name when Edward asked about reading one of his books, not wanting the fame and all, but the doctor had the slightest suspicion that wasn't the case. Isaac was clearly a very confident person, even stepped into arrogance a little bit, but Edward found that he didn't mind.

He also told Isaac about himself, how he grew up in a family of 8, being right in the middle of it all. How he got a full scholarship to Iplieropolis's major college, Iplier State, and opened up his own clinic. The author listened to him with his uttermost attention, blue eyes never once leaving Edward's. It made the doctor tinge pink, but he liked the attention, he thought. It was nice to have someone look at you like you were important. The doctor didn't usually spill out his life story like he did with Isaac, to afraid people would look at him like he was boasting and rubbing it in their faces. 

It didn't feel like that with Isaac.

"You want to go get a drink?"

Edward looked up from his paperwork, seeing Isaac findling with a pen. That was another thing Edward found out about him. The man always had some sort of writing utensil on him at all times, whether it be a pen, pencil, or marker. If you went far enough up his arms, you would find little letters and words in various different languages and symbols. When the doctor had asked about it, Isaac had just replied that he never knew when he's get inspiration for a new story.

Edward looked at the time, seeing it was 5:22. "Right now?" he questioned. 

Isaac shrugged. "Why not? It's passed five anyhow, and you've been sitting there for hours. You look like you could use a drink."

Edward ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was. He  _had_ been in the clinic for almost 12 hours. The doctor never slept very well, and usually relied on a truck load of coffee to help him make it through the day. Once Isaac had figured this out, he brought in a new brew of coffee every day for him to try, even with Edward protesting that he didn't need to, the author was hellbent on making the doctor try all the coffee beans in the world. 

The doctor considered the offer. Mark had texted him earlier, saying that he was planning to go on 'duty' (that man was seriously just a giant man-baby) tonight, meaning Edward would have to be on watch as well. However, Mark never went out until about 11, so the healer wouldn't have to worry about being on watch until that time. But then there was the whole drinking issue. Unfortunately, he was a little bit of a lightweight...

He blinked, mouth opening before he had consciously made the decision himself. "Sure, I'd love that."

Isaac smiled, teeth showing. That was another thing the doctor had noticed about him. Whenever the author smiled, his canines would always show, giving the appearance of a shark. It was a weird thought, seeing that the man himself was harmless, but he couldn't help but make the connection. 

"Well then," Isaac stood up, offering his hand to the doctor. "Ready?"

The tips of Edward's ears redened, slowly placing his hand on the authors. Isaac gripped him, hulling the doctor up smoothly and effortlessly, pulling him against his chest. He stared up wide eyed, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Isaac grinned down at him, eyes twinkling with mischief. He went to say something, but Edward found himself stepping away, looking down at his feet, trying to regain his composure. Sure, Isaac Grant was an attractive man, and yes, he did make him laugh and he enjoyed the authors company and friendship- but for now it had to stay like that. He dealt with to many crazy maniacs, put himself in the line of danger way to often to even consider a relationship. He didn't know what he'd do with himself if they got hurt.

Edward coughed into his hand. "So? Where would you like to go?" 

 

 

They ended up in a little hole in the wall bar called Tim's Tiny Box, a nice and cozy place in the nicer part of Iplieropolis. Edward had come here with Mark on many occasions, and it seemed that Isaac has been here as well. The man immediately grabbed a seat at the bar, greeting the bartender, a lovely lady named Molly. Edward sat down next to him, saying a hello to Molly himself. 

When the bartender realized they were there together, she gave a large smile, a good natured look in her eyes. "You finally got yourself a date, Eddy?" she joked, pouring him a light beer. "'Bout damn time."

Edward flushed pink as Isaac laughed, grabbing the beer and taking a sip. The slightly bitter taste ran down his throat and pooled in his stomach, the alcohol in the drink giving a slight burn.

"I wouldn't say it's a  _date,"_ Edward said, placing down the beer.

"Sure," Molly drawed out, southern accent coming out in full force. "What can I get you, Mr. Author?"

"I'll take a whiskey," Isaac said, playing with his pen again. 

Molly nodded, saying, "one whiskey right up," and walked away.

Edward watched Isaac tap his pen for a minute, the man off in space, thinking about who knows what. The doctor took the time to think as well, wandering back to Molly's words. Was this really a date? The bartender was right; he hasn't been on one in easily 2 and a half years, when he wasn't working with Mark and was still a 'normal' doctor. It wouldn't be  _that bad,_ would it? He's already told Isaac more in the past three weeks that he's told Mark in two years, and Edward considered the hero his closest friend. Besides the whole healing thing and the fact that he worked with heroes regularly, the doctor's pretty much told the author everything he'd ever know about him, and he had done the same.

Bottom line: did he trust Isaac? That was a check in the giant  _Yes_ collum.

Would be mind dating him?  _Definitely not._

Could he be potentially put in danger because of him?  _Probably._

Did he find that he really cared?  _Surprisingly no._

"Is this a date?" Edward blurted out before he lost his courage to do so. At the same time, Molly came back with Isaac's whiskey, and the man took a sip before thanking Molly and turning back to him.

"It can be if you want it to be," Isaac said carefully, swirling the liquor in his glass around a bit.

After a moment's thought, weighing the pros and cons one more time, Edward made his decision.

"Yeah. I think I'd like that."

Isaac gave his shark smile, raising his glass. "Toast?"

Edward raised his own, a grin spreading across his face. "Toast."

 

 

That night had to be one of the best nights in Edward's life. Even with the two knowing so much about each other, they never failed to finds the weirdest things to talk about.

"So you're telling me," Edward snorted, trying not to bust out laughing. "That this girl just  _assumed_ you were he dad, despite the fact the she was older than you? Where the Hell do you find these people?"

Isaac laughed himself. "Look, I just tell the stories. I don't pretend to understand them."

Edward giggled, taking another drink. He was on his third beer, and in hindsight that probably was where he should have stopped, but his mind was too fuzzy to think straight anymore. "You should totally write a story of all the crazy people you've met," he exclaimed as if he just gotten a wonderful idea. "I would  _so_ read that!"

Isaac's lips twitched. "Yeah. I might just need to write that."

The only awkward moment throughout the entire date was something Edward didn't really count as 'awkward.' The T.V was on in the background, just like it always was in Tim's, showing a news story. Isaac was in the middle of telling him his own story when he suddenly stopped, eyes glued to the screen above them. Edward followed his gaze, seeing what the author was staring at.

_"Today at around 8:30 p.m, a body was found by the riverside by multiple pedestrians. The body was almost unrecognizable, but the IPPD had confirmed it's the body of Regina Mallen, a college student that went missing just one week ago."_  They cut to a few pictures of the girl, who was rather attractive, with bright red hair and pretty green eyes.  _"Next to the body, police have found a novel named 'The Fall of Fire,' which have lead them to believe this was the work of the mysterious 'Author' as many have started calling this crazed killer who writes stories about their victims before killing them in the same way they are described in the book."_

After that, they went on to a different story, and a sour taste filling Edward's mouth. The 'Author' was one of Iplieroplois's newest villains, and one of the most perplexing. Most villains were flashy, made sure everyone knew who they were, but not this one. If you asked Edward, that made them even scarier. You never knew when they would strike, or who. You never knew anything had happened until they body showed up.

"Geez, can you imagine? I hope the police catch em,' whoever they are," Edward trailed off, gulping down a mouthful of beer. 

Isaac clicked his pen in thought. "Yeah, I do too."

After that, it was smooth sailing. Edward progressively got drunker and drunker, alcohol clouding his mind and making him giggle every other sentence. He was trying to tell a story about Mark, the first time they met.

"Even before I knew his name," he slurred, giggles trying to fall from his mouth as he remembered the first interaction he and Mark ever had. "He was a bastard. Flaunting around his stupidly handsome face and voice like he owned the damn planet." The doctor took a drink of his beer. Was it his 6th? 7th? He didn't know, or really care at this point. All he cared about was that Isaac's attention was on him, and only him. 

"So, I'm walking in the subway like a regular freakin' person, minding my own business, when this dude suddenly runs into me head and and throws me back like, 12 feet-"

"Damn he sounds strong," Isaac interrupts.

Edward nodded like a bobble head. "You have no idea. Anyways, for the first 10 seconds, he doesn't even notice that he did that. I mean,  _how_ do you miss the fact you sent to person flying while not even breaking a sweat? I sure don't. 

"I manage to get myself up, pretty sure I just sprained one, if not  _two_ wrist's, and he's still doesn't even notice me. We were the only people in the entire station by that point, a train picking all of them up. So I walk up with him, both wrists sprained, mad as Hell, use my foot, and kick him in the shin as hard as possible."

Isaac flat out laughs at that. It gives the doctor a giddy feeling.

" _That's_ when he decided I was worth his attention. He fell to the ground, the most shocked looked on his face, looked up at me and yelled,  _'what the Hell?'_ I just stared at him and replied with, ' _that's what you get for spraining both of my wrists, bitch,'_ and walked away."

The author raised an eyebrow. "That's how you met you closest friend? I wouldn't want to hear how you met all the others if that's the case." He glanced down, seeing all of Edward's glasses piled around him, then back up at the clearly drunk man. 

"Alright," he mumbled, standing up and calling Molly over, giving the bartender a wad of cash. 

Edward protested at this, trying to stand up, only to nearly topple over. "Wait! I'll pay-I-"

Isaac put his arms around the doctors shoulders, steadying him. "No can do, doc. I've got to get you home before you pass out. You are going to have one massive hangover, aren't ya?" He continued to ignore Edward's protests, saying a thanks to Molly.

"Take care of him, you hear me?" called out Molly with a giant grin on her face. 

Isaac smiled back. "Sure will, Molly. Have a nice night!"

With that, both men stepped out into the cool night air. It was pitch black outside, all light coming from the buildings around them. Edward vaguely remembered he had something to do tonight, but he couldn't recall what. What did it matter at this point? It could wait till tomorrow.

Isaac maneuvered the doctor into his car that they had come it. Edward didn't resist, his own sense of up and down to fuzzy to even begin to try and do it himself. The author got in on the other side, turning the car on with a faint hum. The hum soothed Edward, calming his mind and relaxing his muscles.

He didn't fall asleep, but he was very close to. It didn't take them long to reach his house, at least he didn't  _think_ it took them ver long. Where did he live, anyway? How did  _Isaac_ know where he lived? He vocalized this to the other once they had stopped in front of a house. The author only shook his head, telling Edward that he had told him where he lived. This made him confused. He  _did?_ When? Where? He couldn't remember. 

Isaac opened his door and got him out, practically holding the doctor at this point. Once they got to the door, he opened it without a problem, turning on a light that made Edward hiss. Isaac mumbled an apology, carrying him to his bed and laying him down. Mission accomplished on that front, he also got a glass of water, putting it on his bedside table, knowing that there would be not need for pain medication. Just before he left, Edward grabbed his arm weakly.

"Wasn't this supposed to be a date?" Edward slurred, sitting up.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was," Isaac replied, already knowing where this was going.

"Well aren't you supposed to give a kiss goodbye?" the doctor wondered, 100 percent curious.

"Well, only if you want to."

Edward didn't even hesitate. "I'd like that."

Isaac smirked. "Alright."

With that, he grabbed the back of Edward's neck, gently pulling him forward into a chaste kiss. Edward sighed, feeling the sides of the authors short hair. It ended much sooner that he would have liked, a small whine coming from him. Isaac chuckled, saying that he was to drunk right now, maybe some other time. Edward wanted to argue, telling Isaac that he wasn't too drunk, trying to stay awake. It was quickly becoming a losing battle, the doctor's eyes slipping close. 

Isaac smiled down at the doctor, placing a small kiss on his forehead. "Good night, doc," he whispered before standing up, turning off all the lights he had turned on in the house. He closed the door, it locking behind him automatically like he knew it would. He walked away with predatory look on his face, satisfaction filling his veins.

He was so close. Now all he had to do was wait.

 

 

Edward awoke with a groan. His mind was fuzzy and heavy, trying to process what happened. He faintly remembered going out with Isaac to a bar, and getting the drunkest he's been since college. He also remembered the author taking him home, putting him the bed, and-

The doctor smacked himself in the face. Of _course_ he kissed Isaac while he was drunk maniac, what else was he supposed to do? Wait until he was sober again, pack up a picnic and have a romantic kiss under the moonlight in some park like a cheesy romance novel? No, because he was Edward Iplier, the stupidest motherfucker in the world that was prone to proclaiming his love and then kissing people. He was an  _idiot,_ for drinking so much, for asking Isaac to kiss him, _everything._

In the back of his mind, Edward could hear the sound of something going off. It was cheerful and repetitive, and he was pretty sure he knew what it was already. 

Groaning again, the doctor slowly crawled out of bed, seeing a glass of water that Isaac must have left for him on the table. He gulped it down, feeling much better. However, there was no pain pills like he expected, and it was at that moment Edward realized he didn't have a headache. Sure, he felt drowsy and whatnot, but other than that, there was no evidence that he went out drinking last night.

_Weird,_ he though, running his fingers through his hair. The sound from earlier came again, and the doctor sighed. Someone was clearly blowing up his phone, and he intended to know who.

Shuffling out of his room and into the kitchen, he saw his phone sitting on the counter face up. Even from a distance he could see multiple text messages, all from the same person it looked like. Grabbing the phone, Edward opened it to see that he had missed 47 text messages, 4 phone calls, and 1 facetime. Who the Hell was trying to get ahold of him so badly? He pressed on the messaging app, freezing once he saw who it was.

_47 new messages from **Mark Fischbach**_

Oh God.

A sour taste suddenly filling his mouth, Edward quickly skimmed all of the messages, each moment making him feel guiltier and guiltier.

_Mark, 10:56 p.m: Hey, heading out. U good???_

_Mark, 11:12 p.m: doc?_

_Mark, 11:20 p.m: ok this isnt funny anymore_

_Mark, 2:33 a.m: where r u?_

_Mark, 2:40 a.m: thats it im calling_  

_Mark, 3:12: Ed youre seriously scaring me. where the hell r u?_

It went on and on and  _on-_

Edward placed down the phone. He was supposed to be on watch with Mark last night, and he forgot. He recalled thinking that he couldn't spend too much time with Isaac knowing that he had to. Some time between that and now he had completely forgotten about it.

He picked up the phone again, knowing that he would have to call Mark back before it really got out of hand. He pressed the call button, ringing only two times before the other picked up.

_"Edward!"_  yelled Mark, making the doctor cringe and turn away from the receiver.  _"What the Hell happened to you last night?!"_

Edward rubbed the back of his neck. "I may or may not have gotten wasted last night and forgot," he admitted sheepishly. He heard Mark sigh and mumble incoherently under his breath, probably ranting. 

_"Ok, ok, Iplier you nearly gave me a heart attack- I thought something **happened** ok? I thought Wilford or Anti- or God forbid Dark- got ahold of you. I was about to call the police I was so worried. Why on earth were you out  **drinking?** You haven't drank in years."_

Edward opened his mouth, fully intending to tell Mark about the date he had last night (the dude would probably have an aneurysm once he realized the doctor went on a date, something he hasn't done in years) but something compelled him not to. He didn't know why, but something seemed to be physically stopping him from saying anything.

So instead, he lied.

"I just needed a drink. Look, I'm sorry about what happened, I'll make sure to tell you next time, alright? I didn't expect to stay out as long as I did, and by the time I got back I was so drunk I couldn't even tell my left from my right," he told Mark, a weird feeling pooling in his gut from the lie. Mark gave a big sigh.

_"Ok, alright, no Amy, he's fine, the bastard just got drunk, the fucking lightweight, how did he even get home I have no idea, **anyways,** " _he turned his attention back to Edward.  _"You owe Amy and I a fucking lunch date because she was scared as shit too, got it Iplier? I will punch a hole in your wall and Kool Aid-Man my way into your apartment if you don't make it on time, got it?"_

Edward laughed at Mark's words. "You got it Fischbach," He replied, a smile wide on his face. "When and where?"

 

 

Everything was weird.

The walls were swirling, shifting with every movement as Edward walked down the long hallway. There were pictures hanging everywhere, though he couldn't actually make out what they were pictures of. Their blurry outlines almost looked like two people, though other than that, it was too hard to tell exactly what they were doing. 

The doctor moved slowly, each step causing the hallway to tilt and mold into a different position. It was making him motion sick, but he couldn't stop himself to try and regain some sense of balance. Something was pulling- no-  _dragging_ him along like a fish hooked to a line. It was right in the middle of his chest, forcing him forward with each passing moment. For whatever reason, he found he didn't mind the pulling very much.

After what felt like ages, Edward appeared in front of a door, red in color with golden numbers reading 1429. The door nagged at some part of his mind, telling him he should run away, get as far from this place as possible. The other part wanted to step closer, to see what was behind it. 

The urge to get closer was much stronger.

Edward placed his hand on the cold metal knob, turning it. It had a surprising amount of resistance, maybe there was rust on it or something? 

Finally managing to turn the knob all the way, the doctor easily swingged open without a sound. On the other side was nothing but darkness, and that nagging part of his mind told him to turn around now, before it was too late. 

He ignored it.

The doctor stepped into the shadows, finding it to be shockingly warm. He stepped in further, the light that came from the door becoming fainter and fainter. 

All at once, the room became bright with light. Edward found himself in what seemed to be a living room, colorful rugs and couches lining the giant room, a fireplace that burned with warmth in the corner. Above it was a T.V and a clock, and all over the room were pictures, and he was fairly certain they were the same pictures from the hallway. He went closer to one, picking it up to examine it.

In the picture was the doctor himself.

Standing next to Isaac Grant. 

They looked happy; Edward had an arm wrapped around the author while Isaac squeezed his shoulders. They were both smiling wide and bright.

The doctor put down the picture, looking at the others ones. All of them had Isaac and him. 

_What in the world,_ he thought. Why would there be so many pictures of them, all in the same place? And it was clear that they weren't just friends in these pictures, in some of them, he and Isaac were kissing or sleeping together. It gave him a fluttery feeling throughout his body. 

_"That could be you right now."_

Edward whipped around, eyes darting to every corner of the room. "Who said that?" he demanded. When no one answered, he tried again. "Who  _said_ that?"

_"I did, doc."_

Edward turned around seeing the blurry outline of... Isaac? The doctor rubbed at his eyes, sure he was seeing things. Why and the world would Isaac be here of all places? And plus, he made it sound like these pictures were already a reality, and he just hadn't taken the right path yet. 

"I... Isaac?" Edward questioned, taking a step forward. "What are you doing here?"

The ghost like image just tilted its head, a playful smirk across his lips. With no warning, it stepped right into the doctors personal space, snaking a hand around his waist and the other cupping the back of his neck. Edward opened his mouth to protest, but the image- no-  _Isaac-_ cut him off with a firm kiss to his lips. The doctor gasped, his own hands grabbing the authors shoulders, squeezing tightly. Isaac didn't seem to mind, threading his fingers through the little hairs that covered the nape of Edward's neck. With a moment of hesitation, the doctor kissed back shyly, hands moving to drape over the authors upper back. 

He was positive he's never felt this good in his life.

Electricity ran through his veins, each nerve on fire. The warmth of Isaac's hands, his soft lips, everything, just made Edward want to melt into a puddle of goo. It all felt so  _nice,_ to be cherished, to be kissed by him,  _everything._

With a gentle bit to his lower lip, Isaac pulled away, bright blue eyes staring intensely down at him, causing Edward to flush pink. The author put their foreheads together, making sure all of the doctors attention was on him. 

_"This could be us,"_ he whispered, gesturing slightly to the pictures around them.  _"We could be happy together, just like this. All you have to do is find me and say that you'll be mine."_

Edward became confused. Was this not them right now? What in the world did the other mean by  _find_ him? Nothing made any sense, but Isaac placed at finger on his lips to keep him from asking any questions.

_"Do you understand me, dear doctor?"_

Edward slowly nodded, eyes never leaving the others face. 

Isaac gave his signature shark tooth smile. Placing a kiss on the side of the doctor's mouth, he whispered,  _"good,"_ before disappearing into nothing.

 

 

Edward awoke with a start, heart beating out of his chest and breathing shallow. He patted himself down, confirming that indeed, he just had the most vivid dream in his entire life. He was never one for dreaming, only little pockets that he could never remember, so this came as a complete shock to him. He could still taste Isaac on his lips, feel his warm hands, and oddly, miss it, a  _lot._

_All you have to do is find me and say you'll be mine._

It was a weirdly specific request, seeing that Edward saw Isaac almost every day. What did something like that even  _mean?_ Weren't they technically dating, seeing that the night at the bar had been considered a date? And more importantly, what the  _fuck_ was up with that dream?

Edward mumbled to himself, dragging his body out of bed and to the shower to clean up. There was no way he was mentioning this to anyone. Mark would tease him endlessly and Isaac... well, the doctor didn't want to think about what he would say. It was just too embarrassing.

Once he had cleaned himself up, got a massive cup of coffee and a granola bar, Edward walked the short distance to his clinic and opened up shop. He was slightly surprised when the author wasn't there like usual, but brushed it off. It wasn't like he could expect the man to wake up and join him at 6 a.m on the dot every day.

A whispering voice in his mind reminded him that that's exactly what Isaac had been doing for the past two months. He abruptly stopped at the thought. Had he really known the author for that long? It sounded too short, considering Edward couldn't imagine a life without him now. 

The doctor went about his normal routine, opening up everything, saying hello to his part time nurse named Dorothy, and setting up Isaac's little desk he usually sat at during the day. Everything was fine. Everything went according to plan.

Except Isaac Grant was not there.

The doctor stared at the empty desk, something squeezing in his chest. Why wasn't he here? He was always here before 9, and now it was 9:06. Edward's knee bounced like crazy, something he only did when he was nervous or anxious.

At 9:13, he couldn't take it any longer. Edward took out his phone and clicked on Isaac's contact info, hitting the call button.

No one picked up.

After the 5th time, the doctor gave up, just glaring at his paperwork like it was somehow the cause of his problems. 

_Why aren't you here?_

 

 

8 days. That's how long it took for Edward to lose his shit.

For the most part, everything was normal. He worked his clinic like normal, he dealt with patients like normal, and helped Mark with his injuries (a particularly bad broken bone) like normal. Everything was perfectly normal.

Except Isaac wasn't anywhere to be found.

Except that Edward was about to scream.

Except the dreams kept appearing, taunting him with images of him and the author together, happy. Taunting him with picnic dinners under the stars, amusement park rides, kisses and love. 

_"All you have to do is find me and say you'll be mine."_

That's how all the dreams ended, and Edward ws finding it harder and harder to resist. 

"But how am I supposed to find you," he desperately begged. "Please, tell me how!"

Isaac leaned in close, breath fanning over the doctors face.  _"You'll know."_ And with that, he vanished again, waking up Edward who was reaching up with his hands.

He's had enough of this bullshit. He'll find Isaac or die trying.         

That thought in mind, Edward swinged his legs over the side of the bed, standing up and ignoring the time, which read 1:22 a.m. There was something like dust floating in the air, glowing softly. The doctor instantly felt the pull to follow the lights, and he didn't resist, following them out of his house and onto the street. The words  _you'll know_ echoed through his mind, positive this is what Isaac was talking about. He walked for miles in a trance, not paying attention to the pedestrians around him, the cars that flew pass, or his own tiredness. There was only one thought on his mind.

_All you have to do is find me and say you'll be mine._

_All you have to do is find me and say you'll be mine._

_**All you have to do is find me and say you'll be mine.** _

The next time the doctor blinked, he found himself in front of a red door with the golden numbers 1429.

He had found Isaac. 

Ecstatic at the thought of finding the author after so long had Edward nearly drooling. He was  _so close._ All he needed to do was open the door. He gripped the the door knob, ready to throw open the door, but something stopped him.

_Go back now,_ begged a part of his mind.  _Please, before you do something you'll regret._   

Edward blinked. 

The door swung open with a small push, the warning signs in that part of his mind dying. 

On the other side stood Isaac Grant, blue eyes happy and reassuring.

The doctor's eyes widened, heart, beating out of his chest.  _All you have to do is find me._ He just did that.

_And say that you're mine._

"I'm yours," Edward breathed. 

Isaac's hand reached out to grab the others, warmth spreading through the doctors body with a mere touch and pulling him through the door and into the inside.

"I know you are," hushed Isaac, hands gripping the sides of Edward's hips, pulling him flush against his body. "Now and for forever."

Isaac kissed him, hard and bruising, hands wandering under his nightshirt. Edward tangled his hands into the authors short hair, moaning softly. 

_Now and for forever._

That kept repeating in his mind as the author's movements became more passionate, breathing becoming shallower, as Edward's skin heated up and was pressed down into something soft.

_Now and for forever._

 

 

The next morning Edward was sore and covered in bruises, but he was content. Content with the warmth from the body next to him, content with the gentle snores that came from him, content with the fact that he finally found his love.

He stared at Isaac for a long time, a dopey smile on his face, staring at his wonderfully short hair, slightly crooked nose, and his favorite, the scars. They were faint and small, but they fascinated him nonetheless. He softly traced them with the pads of his fingers, feeling the rough tissue beneath. Sometime between the time he first woke up and doing this, Isaac escaped the depths of sleep himself. He looked at Edward with loving and and tired eyes, asking how he slept last night.

"Great," Edward replied happily. He's never been so happy in his life.

Isaac kissed him, a giggle falling from Edward's lips. "I love you so much," he exclaimed, cupping the sides of the authors face. 

"I love you too."

 

 

Later that day, once they had finally gotten out of bed and into the living room that Edward remembered from his dreams, they turned on the T.V with a mug of hot chocolate in their hands. Isaac randomly flipped through the channels, giving Edward the time to look around him and see all the pictures he had unconsciously memorized, words he didn't understand written on some of them. He didn't think much of the fact that he had never actually posed for these pictures or been to the places shown, just happy to see him with Isaac. 

When Edward returned his attention back to the T.V, he saw that the author had chosen  _Hire My Ass,_ a popular game show usually hosted by Yin Franklin. However, sight confirmed that Franklin wasn't there, but replaced with someone else. His dark hair was a bit on the long side, curling over his ears slightly, accompanied by a pair of black framed glasses.

_"Hello everyone!"_ he cheered.  _"I'm Bim Trimmer, and welcome to Hire My Ass!"_

"Well I be damned," mumbled Isaac under his breath. "He actually did it."

Edward tilted his head up in confusion. "Do you know him?" he asked, a twinge of jealousy appearing.

Isaac shook his head. "A long time ago. I forgot the kid even existed..." he trailed off, flipping the channel to something else. "It's nothing to worry about dear, I promise."

Edward hummed, snuggling into the authors side happily. That's all he cared about.

 

 

It became a routine of theirs. Isaac always had to go out for some reason, telling Edward that he had some business to work on. He would always tell the author to come back soon, and that he'd be waiting for him. He always was. Sometimes when he came home he'd be bloody, just barely holding on to the cusp of life. When this happened Edward would be terrified, the idea of losing the one he loved difficult to comprehend. He would rush over to the other, hands already glowing with his healing light, and place them on the wounds. He never minded the blood, only focused on saving his lover. If Isaac was ever surprised that he could do this, he never showed it, in fact, Edward was sure he knew already. This fact didn't bother him, even though he was certain he never told the author about his abilities.

Other times, Isaac would read him first drafts of stories he was writing, bouncing ideas off each other. Edward always loved the passion that rolled of the man in waves, the way he would get excited and animate with his hands. One time, Isaac stopped suddenly, realizing that Edward was just staring at him with lovesick eyes, not processing a word he was saying. 

"You like what you see?" he joked, inching closer. 

Edward flushed, not averting his gaze as the other came closer and closer. "Definitely," he admitted, dreamy expression on his face.

"Though so."

After that, Isaac would made sure he knew just how good he had it.

One night, when the were sitting on the couch and just enjoying each others company, Isaac brought out a sharpy, twirling it in his hands. After a moment's consideration, he grasped Edward's hand gently, making the palm face up. The other didn't protest, watching as the author wrote something on his wrist. Once he was done, Edward observed it, seeing the words  _I love you_ written in beautiful script.

"There. Now you always know how much I love you," Isaac said lovingly, rubbing the back of his loves hand. 

Edward chuckled, kissing Isaac's cheek. "I don't need it to know," he told him. "But I love it anyway."

The thought never occurred to him that a normal marker would just wash itself off after a few showers, but no matter how many times he and Isaac showered together, washing each other off, the marker stayed clear and bright.

He loved showering with Isaac.

He loved cooking with him.

Reading, writing, watching T.V, making love, he loved  _everything._

He hated it when he came home hurt.

Hated it when he went away, forcing Edward to just stare blankly at the wall and feeling cold until he came back safe and sound.

Now, he forced himself to watch some T.V to fill the aching silence, turning it on to the news channel. It was something about some villain, finding a body, an author, investigations, someone named Darkiplier, but Edward was barely paying attention. 

_An author,_ he thought plainly.  _Just like Isaac._ The man had been gone for two days now, longer than he's ever been out. In that time, Edward hadn't been able to sleep, eat, think, anything. Only wonder when Isaac would come back home, back to him. Nothing ever changed in the house, not the furniture, the channels on the T.V, the pictures on the wall, or the words he still couldn't understand and never asked what they meant. Isaac was the only change in the house, and without him Edward was slowly being driven mad.

He ran over the words on his wrist.  _I love you._

He stared at them until his eyes hurt.  _I love you._

He stared at them until the news changed stories.  _I love you._

_Why won't you come back?_ he thought.  _I already lived through this once, I can't do it again._

As he thought this, it suddenly occurred to him how weird this whole situation was. He met Isaac, fell in love, and then he disappeared. After only a few days, he freaked out, listened to a  _dream_ and followed glowing lights to his house, where's he's been ever since. 

Where he's been ever since.

How  _long_ has he been in this house? Time didn't seem to flow the same here, straining easily like water down a stream. He hasn't even been on his phone in ages or talked to Mark-

Wait-  _what-?_  

He blinked furiously. Mark. Mark Fischbach. AKA, Markiplier. AKA, the hero he's helped out for two and a half years. The hero he hasn't seen since he found Isaac. A numbing sensation consumed his mind, memories and thoughts appearing at random. 

_Where am I?_

_Why haven't I been outside in so long?_

_How long had it been?_

_Why am I here?_

_Who is Isaac-_

Who is Isaac. That was enough to snap him out of it, jumping up off the couch in shock.

_Who is Isaac Grant?_

_What the Hell has Isaac Grant done to me?_

He thought back to when he found him, how desperate and wanting he had been, how beautiful and perfect he was. He remembers how he never protested against staying in the house, and how he miraculously knew about Edward's healing powers.

_What the Hell had Isaac Grant done to me?_

He looked back down at his marked wrist. Why hadn't it washed away yet? It's been there for- how long has it been there for? Edward started to panic, realizing just how long it's been since he's found the author. He gripped at his hair, breathe shallowing. The pictures around him caught his eye, and he stared at them, wondering where they ever came from. The writing on them didn't seem so unreadable now. 

Getting closer to the nearest one, the one of them kissing each other on the cheek, he read the words in a familiar handwriting,  _Edward Iplier will always be happy in this home as long as I'm here._  

Edward furrowed his eyebrows at the odd choice of words, moving on to the others.

_Edward Iplier will never protest to me leaving the house, or to never leaving the house himself._

Edward froze, trying to process the words. When has be ever tried leaving this goddamn house?

Panic levels starting to increase again, Edward darted over to the next group of pictures, each word making him sicker and sicker.

_Edward Iplier will forget about Mark Fischbach, like he never existed. He won't think, remember, or recall anything about him._

_Edward Iplier will won't ever question why he's here, or why there are so many pictures of him and I all around._

_Edward Iplier will no longer think of himself as a doctor, except for me._

_Edward Iplier will not be able to read any of these pictures, but he will not care to ask._

And the one that he saw every other one? The one that kept sending spikes of pain throughout his body and made him realize just how sick and twisted this whole thing was?

_**Edward Iplier will love me.** _

_**Edward Iplier will love me.** _

_**EDWARD IPLIER WILL LOVE ME.** _

After the 15th he found, he yelled out, sweeping his hand out and knocking over all the pictures. The glasses in the frames shattered, embedding into the tops of his bare feet, but he did notice, didn't care. The marker on his hand seemed to be burning now, but he was too nauseous and too afraid to look at it. 

He had to focus. He had to think. Why in the world, if these words did seem to have power, and they actually worked, then why were they not anymore? Did they have a limit on how long they could last? The doctor couldn't recall Isaac even reapplying anything to the frames, and he's been gone for similar amounts of time,  _so what changed?_

_Writing. Books. Author. Gone. Everything. I love you._

Edward blinked, mind suddenly taking him back to the night at the bar.

_Today at around 8:30 p.m, a body was found by the riverside by multiple pedestrians. The body was almost unrecognizable, but the IPPD had confirmed it's the body of Regina Mallen, a college student that went missing just one week ago. Next to the body, police have found a novel named 'The Fall of Fire,' which have lead them to believe this was the work of the mysterious 'Author' as many have started calling this crazed killer who writes stories about their victims before killing them in the same way they are described in the book."_

Isaac.  _"Yeah, I'm an author. I specialize in horror."_

Isaac. Always carrying around a pen and writing things on his hand.

Isaac. Somehow finding his way to his house  _and_ opening the door with no problem.

The news. Crazed new killer on the loose. Kills people the exact way they are described in the book.

The Fall of Fire.  _The Fall of Fire._

Edward dashed into the hallway closet, where Isaac always kept his latest and older books. He tore through them, searching for the one thing he was looking for. If he found, it, it would confirm his fears. Once he got to the very back of the closet, books thrown to the floor and dust in the air, the doctor found it.

_The Fall of Fire._

Hands shaking, he picked up the book, flipping to the back. There was a picture of a girl, a girl Edward recognized all too well.

_Regina Mallen._

He dropped it like it was hot fire, backing up until he hit the opposite wall. 

_The Author. Isaac Grant is The Author._

Banging on a door made Edward flinch, breath catching in fear. It was him. It had to be.  _The Author._

The mad man that's killed dozens of people for fun, that could control you with a flick of his pen, that took Edward Iplier's life away.

The banging grew louder, more desperate. There was a muffled voice, yelling something, but the doctor couldn't comprehend it. All he could think was that he would control him again, that The Author would keep him here for all eternity, force him to forget everyone he knew, forcing him to  _love-_

Bile rised in his throat, but he forced it back down. He had to get out of here, had to get away from this monster. He should have listened to the small part of his mind that told him to stay away, that told him this was bad. But he didn't. 

"Ed...ward!" gasped the voice that distinctly belonged to Isaac- no-  _The Author._ The doctor felt like a robot, walking to the living room and staring at the front door, listening to the voice, the voice that took away his freedom, his choice,  _everything._

The door burst open with a sharp  _crack,_ showing The Author behind. Edward's heart momentarily stopped, seeing _blood_ covering every inch of the killers body, deep cuts into his arms, pen in hand and swaying, probably from blood loss. But that's not what held the doctors attention. It was his eyes.

Or more specifically, his lack of eyes.

Gaping, bloody eye sockets stared back at him, the red liquid pouring down his cheeks and into the floor. Edward felt glued in place, watching as the man attempted to take a step forward, only to fall to the ground with a moan. "Ed... ward," he tried again, reaching out with a ruined hand. 

_"You monster,"_ were the only words that made it out of his mouth. 

The Author groaned again, using his elbows to crawl slightly. Edward didn't move, just watched him suffer, bleeding out slowly. 

_"Please,"_ he begged. "Edwa..rd,  _please._ I... love you."

_I love you._

**_I love you._ **

~~_**I love you.** _ ~~

~~~~"No," the doctor whispered. "No you don't."

Without a second thought, he ran for the still open door, dodging the killers weak attempt to grab him. His lungs were already tiring out, not having to use like this in such a long time. The feeling of being outside momentarily shocked him, the warm wind, the moon high in the sky-

_Warm?_

No, that couldn't be. The last he remembered it was early October, when it wasn't cold enough to wear a jacket yet, and now it was  _Summer?_ How  _long-_

The sounds of The Author moving behind him frightened the doctor, terrified of somehow being put under his control again. For whatever reason, he was sure that he couldn't anymore, at least, not in the way he used to, but he didn't stay long enough to find out.

He went into a full on sprint, ignoring the rocks and pebbles that embedded into his feet, ignoring the still hot asphalt on his skin, ignoring everything in the world around him. He just  _ran_ far, far away from the man that did all of this to him. 

_I wish I'd never met you._

After he didn't know how long, a single thought entered his mind.  _Find Mark. Find Mark. Find Mark._

But where would he be? At his house? That would be the most logical explanation, but Mark's place seemed so far away, so hard to remember still. The image of what Mark looked like was fuzzy in his mind, a faint memory struggling to resurface. 

There were people around Edward now, but their faces were blurred. Any one of them could hurt him, any one of them could control him easily. He was so damn gullible, so easy to fall in love with someone he didn't even know. Tears started running down his face, blocking his vision and causing him to run into someone.

_"Hey!"_ they yelled. _"Watch it!"_

Edward couldn't hear them. He could only think. 

_The bar. Tiny Box Tim's, no, Box Tim Tiny's, **no,** Tim's Tiny Box! _The bar! Go there, go there, go there! He could see it now, just ahead. The open sign blinked weakly, and the doctor made a beeline for the door. It was somewhere safe, somewhere with people he trusted,  _really_ trusted.

Edward threw the door open, hearing someone say, "sorry sir, we're just about to close-" the voice cut itself off. He knew that voice. It was a friend, it was the bartender, the one that teased Edward for going on a date. She was kind, she worked at this place where he and Mark would sometimes go, this very bar-

_"Molly,"_ Edward gasped, seeing the women for the first time in who knows how long. Sitting in the bar in front of her was a man, tan skin, dark hair, and bulging muscles, brown eyes turning to look at him. The man also gasped, dropping his drink to the floor, but not noticing it .He jumped up from his seat, mouth wide in shock.

"Oh my God-" he started, but Edward cut him off.

_"Mark,"_ Edward sobbed, falling to the dingy floor below. Seeing the hero was to overwhelming, memory of how worried he was when he didn't call him that night coming back with full force. Tears and snot ran down his face, and both of his friends raced over to him. Molly cupped his cheeks, hugging him with full force that he gladly returned. He cried into her shirt, but she didn't seem to find, only shushed him gently and stroked his hair.

"It's alright," she soothed, rocking him back and forth like a child. "You're fine, whatever happened, you're fine."

"No," he moaned. "No no no no." Nothing was alight. He was brainwashed, kidnapped, forced to fall in love and then  _raped._ Multiple times. And he  _enjoyed_ it.

Molly pulled away slightly, wiping away his tears as much as she could. He could see Mark standing above them, a look of pure shock on his face. He was mumbling to himself again, words flying from his mouth. " _8_ months, 8 months and you just appear out of nowhere oh God, and you look like shit I'm going to _kill_ whoever did this," were some of the many things that came from the heros mouth. 

8 months. 

8 months of his life, gone, taken by The Author. 

8 months of Hell that he'll never forget as long as he lived.

More tears came, harder to control. Words spilled from his mouth, but he hardly understood what he was saying. "The Author, The Author he was Isaac he was  _Isaac_ Molly it was him it was  _him._ He- he -he made me do things, made me love him, made be do _everything! I trusted him! I trusted him and it's all my fault! I trusted him and he used me like a pen, wrote out my story like I was nothing! And I couldn't do anything about it! I could just take it-"_

Arms wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides. Edward thrashed in the hold, reminding him to much of the way Isaac would hold him. When had he standed up? There was stinging in his hands, blood in his hair. "No!" he yelled. "Let go! Let go of me you monster! You killer,  _let go!"_ he ended with a sob.

"No, no Eddy it's not him," whispered a deep voice, Mark's in his ear. "It's me. You have to calm down for me, ok? Calm down, a deep breath in, and deep breath out, can you do that for me?

The doctor slowly breathed, listening to Mark. Mark. His trusted friend. His closest friend. The one he never told about Isaac in the first place.

"I'm sorry," he hiccuped once he had calmed down. "I'm sorry about  _everything."_

"It's ok, Eddy. Lets get you cleaned up, alright? Let Molly and I help, ok?" gentle asked Mark as he set the doctor down on shaky legs, an arm draping over his shoulders to help keep steady. "Come one, you're safe now. You know Molly and I won't hurt you, right?"

Edward nodded, eyes trailing to the bartender, whose eyes were wide with worry. A small line of blood that wasn't there before was on her cheek, and he briefly wondered if it came from him.

Together the tree made their way to the bars bathroom, which was nice by any bar standards. Mark set him on the sink counter, and Edward didn't protest, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. It took some coaxing, but they finally got his shirt off, stunned at the bruises and marks that lined his skin, most notably his neck and chest. Mark could feel his anger grow with each passing moment, but he shoved it away. He could rip the guy to shreds later. Right now, his friend needed him. 

Edward didn't react as the two started to clean out his wounds with the bars first aid kit, Molly having to pull out shards of glass that got stuck in his feet. They wrapped up a bar cut that the doctor didn't remember getting, the cut deep and red.

Like The Author's eyes.

After everything had been cleaned, the two offered for Edward to take a moment to himself and to come outside when he was ready. Edward didn't say anything, only nodded shortly. The two left, talking in hushed voices behind the closed door.

The doctor looked at himself in the mirror, taking note of every mark that killer had put on him, all in the name of love.  _I love you._

_I love you I love you I love you I love you_

He brought his wrist up, where surprisingly Mark and Molly hadn't checked. The words were still as bold and as dark as they had been the first day they had been put there.

_I love you._

Edward turned on the water, still staring at the words. 

_I love you._

They had to come off, now that The Author's words didn't affect him anymore, right? They had to. 

He put his wrist under, finding the water to be burning hot. He didn't care. He just rubbed and rubbed and rubbed and rubbed at the skin- but it wasn't coming off. It stubbornly stayed. The doctor became desperate, scraping his nails harder and harder against the marked skin.

_They had to come off, they **have to come off.**_

He was bleeding by now, the cuts stinging and staining the water red. "They have to come off," he was saying. "They have to come  _off!"_

The door to the bathroom opened again, but it made Edward only dig his nails deeper.  _"They have to come off!"_ he yelled as his hands were dragged apart. 

"Edward!" came from Mark, but the doctor could barely hear him. 

_I'm broken,_ he thought, sinking to the ground, Mark letting go of his hands in confusion. 

_I'm tainted._ The words were bloodied now, but still as clear as ever.

_I'm worthless._ Edward thought about how he met Isaac Grant, how nice and handsome he was.

_You're a fool._ How easy it was for him to fall into his game.

_You still love him, don't you?_

"What a wicked game you played," Edward whispered, so soft that only he could hear himself. "To make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do... to make me be with you," he broke down into sobs again, Mark hugging him around the middle, trying to calm his friend. 

What a wicked game indeed, to play with someone's heart.

Especially when that someone still feels love.   

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


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